The Storyteller: FALLOUT S1 E5 – The Enclave

The Storyteller: FALLOUT S1 E5 – The Enclave

You’ve experienced the FALLOUT series in your
own way, but want to learn more about its story. Well- to get to the heart of the story-
you have to go back to the beginning… As far as anyone knows, this wasteland is
the best damned wasteland in the world. When America and China went head-to-head two hundred
years ago, both sides launched everything they had and most people assume that China
was blasted back to the Stone Age. The only way to know for sure is to jump in a boat
and paddle across the ocean so folks just assume that China, Europe, Canada and the
rest of the world got hit at least as bad as America did. People look out at this land
and some of them just know in their hearts that it’s the garden spot of the whole world.
Maybe that’s why we can’t go more than few decades without someone trying to take over
the place. When humanity was just beginning the struggle
to rebuild after the war, there was no sign of the government helping out. People formed
tribes lead by the strongest warriors and the smartest scavengers. The chain of command
and the line of succession meant nothing to people who needed things done fast. The closest
thing to a government that emerged was tribal elders, or the mayors of small villages. Eventually, in 2189, some of the larger towns
in California banded together and formed the New California Republic, but they never claimed
to be THE government. With no communications from the pre-War government for over a century,
the memory of it faded as new generations replaced the old, convinced the old president
and his kind were long dead, but the wasteland ain’t so lucky… Two hundred years ago, in the last days before
the Great War, a secret coterie of America’s top-ranking political and corporate leaders
decided to duck and cover – big time. They scurried right off the continent and hid inside
a secret offshore base then cowered there while the rest of the country suffered a nuclear
holocaust the government had caused. There they stayed, safe and hidden for decades,
and the group we know today as the Enclave is the result of ten generations of breeding
between politicians, military brass, and corporate executives. The direct descendents of the
people who caused the apocalypse? Not many people would make up a story like that, so
it’s probably safe to take them at their word about their ancestors. Regardless of who their great grandparents
were, the Enclave certainly has access to an abundance of pre-war tech and weapons.
They hoarded it on a man-made island – a metal city that grew out of the ocean floor. It
was once used to refine oil, back when people could pull oil right out of the bottom of
the sea. The Poseidon Oil rig was inaccessible to people on the mainland, so no one knew
they were out there until they began their plan to rid the wasteland of everyone who
didn’t fit their definition of a real American. The Enclave had spent decades learning to
improve upon pre-war weaponry- they weren’t just collecting artifacts of the old world
like the Brotherhood, they were looking toward the future. They had devices more advanced
than anything seen in the wasteland, including the Brotherhood. It wasn’t just better guns,
or the ginchiest armor – The Enclave had a fleet of flying vehicles they called Vertibirds. Most folk had never even seen a car move unless
it was hitched to a team of brahmin, so these Vertibirds gave the Enclave an edge over every
other human group in the wasteland. They could send in drop teams to kidnap whole villages
at a time to use as test subjects. They could suddenly appear at remote locations, then
just as quickly disappear. Most importantly, they could travel to and from their offshore
base secure in the knowledge that no one could follow. Well, almost no one. There was a person back
then who seemed to have a knack for getting vehicles up and running again. People who
lived in the Den swear up and down that somewhere around 2242 they saw a person in a Vault jumpsuit
driving around in an old Chryslus Highwayman – with a big green mutant taking up the
entire back seat, and a cyborg dog poking his nose out the window. That’s the sort of tall tale that would be
easy to dismiss, but it happened in the same year someone managed to get a ship seaworthy
again. They sailed that tanker right out into the ocean to the Enclave’s base and took them
down. Stories like that – they fill a body with
hope, maybe with enough work we could all be driving around in pre-war cars, living
the good life. In a way, that sort of hope for the future was what the Enclave wanted,
and they got it at the cost of their own lives. Their ambition was their downfall. They weren’t
content to live out their lives in prosperity, they had to take back their country from the
people they viewed as sub-human. To do so, the Enclave engaged in the sort of daredevil
science that brought about the end, the Great War. They engineered a virus tailored for
genocide, performed inhuman experiments, and even took to playing God by creating a species
of intelligent deathclaws – just like their ordinary brethren, they were giant beasts
that could rip a man in half, but smart enough to think like you and me and even mimic human
speech. But even deathclaws were nothing when compared
to the Enclave’s deadliest creation… A man named Frank. It’s hard to say just what Frank
Horrigan was. People who saw him in person tended to die quickly and gruesomely. At some
point he must have been a man, a brutal killer, but still human. But when the Enclave discovered
the old Mariposa military base and the Forced Evolutionary Virus vats within, Horrigan was
exposed by accident. He was among the first of a new generation of super mutants created
years after the Master’s downfall. The arrogance of the Enclave’s leaders led
them to believe that they could improve upon the virus. The FEV and Horrigan were used
for horrid experiments that would make the Master cringe. When they could learn no more
from his suffering, the Enclave turned Frank into their most devastating soldier, a mutated
cybernetic terror encased in their finest power armor. It’s hard to imagine how anyone managed to
defeat arguably the most dangerous being to ever walk the wasteland and bring down his
Enclave masters… But somehow the “Chosen One” of an obscure northern tribe destroyed
the Enclave oil rig, forcing the Enclave to flee New California. Leaderless and directionless, they soon rallied
behind Autumn, a senior scientist who was contacted by a new Enclave President. It didn’t
take long for the remnants to reach the East Coast with their Vertibirds. They had no fancy
oil rig this time, but they soon nestled into Raven Rock and Adams AFB, pre-war bases that
were nearly as impregnable. They changed their routine in Washington DC, promising that they
could guide America back to the golden age of malt shops and drive-in movies. On the West Coast, they had a man who claimed
to be the rightfully elected President of the United States, but by the time they reached
the Capital Wasteland, things had changed a little. Now their “President” remained
unseen and only addressed the public through a swarm of floating propaganda robots that
spewed “Stars & Stripes Forever” along with political rhetoric so hollow that it
sounded like it was written by a random word generator. The war for control of the Capital Wasteland
was a trial for the Enclave. Bereft of their island fortress, and without the unstoppable
brutality of Frank Horrigan, they had to fight a hard war to gain territory. The Brotherhood
of Steel had a strong presence in Washington DC, and super mutants roamed the streets looking
for humans to abduct. The Enclave still had their technological
superiority, and their Vertibirds. They even took control of pre-war satellites, and could
fire missiles that had been waiting in the sky for hundreds of years. But, their greatest
weapons were deceit and manipulation. The Brotherhood relied on a local wanderer for
help in combating the Enclave, and it is possible that the Enclave managed to convince this
individual to implement a more subtle plan that could accomplish their goals even after
their repeated defeats at the hands of the Brotherhood. Yet it did not save them. In 2277, following
their disastrous defeat by Liberty Prime at the Purifier, the Enclave was shattered again
and with its leaders dead or missing, its major strongholds were soon annihilated by
Brotherhood strikes. The few surviving members probably wish that they had stayed hidden
on their private island out in the Pacific. Now the once mighty remnants of America’s
elite have been reduced to a handful of wistful old men hiding out in the wastelands. Most gave up on the Enclave’s vision of the
world, and settled down to live quiet lives, getting as much peace as a person can in the
wasteland. Travelers who visit a certain old motel in Novac can speak with a former Enclave
pilot who isn’t as bad as the legends make the Enclave sound – she’s a tough old broad,
but she’s no Frank Horrigan. Out East the Enclave continues to operate
in small bands that harass the Brotherhood, and anyone else who strays too closely to
their remaining outposts, but they are devoid of leadership or any long-term plans. In the
West, sharp-eyed travelers can sometimes spot the rusted hulks of crashed vertibirds, but
there is little else remaining of the Enclave – or at least that the Enclave wishes to reveal.
Could an organization with such resources be entirely stamped out? Much like radroaches
the Enclave has shown remarkable resilience, and the people of the wasteland should be
prepared to deal with another hidden nest of these relics of the old days. For now, the Enclave has joined the ranks
of those who fancied themselves the rightful rulers of the wasteland. Their glory has faded
along with that of others like The Master, but it seems like some lessons are never learned,
and there’s always someone new looking to claim our wasteland as their own. The New
California Republic has flourished even as the Enclave faded. And while the NCR has ruled
their lands with relative peace and prosperity, even this period of stability is threatened
by a new would-be tyrant that seeks to rebuild yet another fallen empire…. But that- is a story for another day.


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    – Take the most arrogant, spoiled and authoritarian 0.01% of the population
    – Tell them they are a superior breed and it's their destiny to rule to world.
    – Seal them in a luxurious, incestuous bubble for 200 years.
    – Turn them loose with a vast stockpile of advanced pre-war weapons.

    What could possibly go wrong. . . . . .

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    Bowen Orcutt

    The Enclave are a lot like the Galactic Empire from Star Wars: If they didn't have such a massive fixation with doomsday weapons, I could almost, ALMOST see myself supporting them.

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